


let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater

by defyinggravity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Has Feelings, Fluff, M/M, stiles returns those feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defyinggravity/pseuds/defyinggravity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cuddle session ensues when Derek tries to warm Stiles up after Stiles is nearly drowned by a psycho, killer mermaid. There may also be some feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Sweater Weather" by The Neighbourhood.

“I really hate to say I told you so, but - " Derek trails off, intently watches how Stiles’ hands shake violently. He watches as Stiles desperately tries to stop full body shudders, but to no avail. He looks like a miserable wet puppy, albeit a cute one.

  
A cute one, really? Derek shakes off that train of thought fast.

  
Stiles looks up then, narrows his eyes at Derek, but any chance that the glare might have been effective is ruined by the full body shudder that rips through Stiles’ body at that moment. Stiles whines quietly, and Derek’s tense posture loosens a little at the sound.

  
“H-how was I-I-I supposed to that Amelia was the k-k-killer mermaid?” Stiles asks, his teeth chattering loudly.

  
Derek purses his lips, tries to figure out a way to answer Stiles’ question without adding insult to injury.

  
“Well,” Derek pauses; _‘you’ve been used as bait to catch me enough times in the past to know when a girl asks you on a date, you should proceed with caution’_ probably isn’t the best thing to say so he changes his answer at the last second, “she smelled fishy.”

  
Stiles attempts to scoff, but it comes out much more like a whimper, “maybe to your sensitive were-nose, but to us mere humans, she smelled like sunscreen and the b-b-beach.”

  
Derek quirks his eyebrow, and it clearly asks the question Derek doesn’t vocalize, _and the beach scent wasn’t enough of a clue?!?!?_

  
“Oh, huh” Stiles says intelligently.

Derek rolls his eyes, and Stiles shrugs, probably much too tired and too cold to argue, and Derek really can’t be more grateful for that.

He leaves Stiles where he’s sitting on the cement floor; his normally baggy clothes now cling wetly to his body, leaving little to the imagination.

Not that Derek is even imagining anything in the first place.

Derek sighs heavily as he hops up into the rail car and goes over to his little storage box that contains all his clothes. He rummages through the small assortment he does have, looks for that one sweater Laura gave him for Christmas, during one of the years they spent in New York. He can’t bear to throw it away despite everything.

He finds it and is really glad he hasn’t got of rid of the sweater now though.

Derek walks back out to where Stiles is still on the floor, but his position has changed. Instead of star fishing out on the floor of the abandoned train depot like he had been a minute ago, he’s now sitting up, his knees up against his chest; his arms are wrapped around himself defensively, and he’s rocking back and forth on his tail bone.

Derek coughs uncomfortably, garners the attention of Stiles whose face has taken on a light bluish hue. Well, shit.

“Here,” Derek walks up to Stiles, and shoves the gray cashmere sweater and gray sweatpants at him, thrusts the combo at Stiles from an arm’s length away. He promptly backs up 10 feet once Stiles has a grasp on the clothing.

Stiles is able to manage a small smile, and Derek notices the dark blue, almost purple tint his lips have taken, but is thankfully distracted from their general poutiness when he hears the quiet sound of Stiles teeth chattering again.

“Change,” he barks, letting some of his Alpha-ness seep into his voice.

Stiles rolls his eyes thoroughly unimpressed, “no need to tell me twice, but turn around dude. Privacy and all that jazz,” he flails his hands about as he stands up to strip.

Derek growls, but does as he’s told and turns around facing the entrance to the depot. He hears the wet sloshing noise the clothes make when they hit the ground, and he resists the urge to wince. He tries really hard not to remember the last time Stiles was in wet clothing because Derek had been there with him, in the pool with the kanima circling around the perimeter.

“All good man,” Stiles declares and his voice sounds stronger now and not as water-logged.

Derek nods and turns back around and feels his mouth twitch at the sight in front of him, and he’s fairly certain he can’t stop the smirk from breaking out on his face. He and Stiles are the same height, but in terms of girth, he has Stiles beaten by a lot, so his clothes are incredibly baggy on Stiles, more so than Stiles’ own clothes are normally. He looks like a 12 year old kid playing dress-up in adult’s clothing instead of the 16 year old teenager he actually is.

Stiles notices Derek’s amusement, and scowls. “D-dude, it’s totally not my fault you’re like a body builder and I’m a twig, it’s really not. It’s called a fast metabolism and anyways I’m not even really a twig anymore, I’m all lean muscle now, okay? All the supernatural monster hunting has been good for my b-body.” Stiles flexes his arms in a muscle-man type stance, but this only leaves Derek’s clothes more limp on Stiles’ body.

“Mhm.”

“Whatever, man.”

Stiles’ sigh sounds defeated, and he sits back on the ground, resuming his fetal position. Derek again tries really hard to ignore how Stiles’ body is still shaking despite the fact that he’s now in warm, dry clothes.

Stiles has this pensive look on his face and before Derek can ask what’s up, Stiles asks instead. “You still don’t have running water set up down here right?”

“Right,” Derek affirms, not sure where this line of questioning is going.

“So like,” Stiles buries his hands in the sleeves of the loaned sweater, “how do you, you know, bathe?”

“The river.”

“Dude,” Stiles’ eyes bug out, intrigued and more than a little amused. “That’s like, so caveman. Do you b-b-bathe in wolf form or in human form? I would think you would do it in human form, b-because even though you’re a werewolf, you’re still like a wolf, and wolves are related to dogs, and dogs aren’t the fondest of baths, most of them anyway. You know the saying where it talks about wet dogs right?

“So yeah, I would totally think you shower in human form, except you can’t really shower in a river, it’s more like a bath huh? Oh, and uh, it’s not like I have this thought all the time, you know? I mean, I definitely don’t think about you bathing, at all, ever really because bathing implies that you’re naked and I definitely don’t think about you naked.”

  
Derek sighs, exasperated, for a few reasons. One because Stiles is kind of right, wet fur is so not the bees-knees. Not that he will _ever_ admit that to Stiles because he’s pretty sure Stiles will try to use a squirt bottle on him or something the next time he wolfs out. And also, because Stiles’s unnecessary rambling has left him shivering more, he’s expending far too much energy for someone who nearly died from hypothermia/drowning because of a psycho mermaid whom they’ve been on the lookout for, for _months_.

“Why’d you ask about the water Stiles?” Derek asks, completely ignoring Stiles’ inquiry about how he showers and that Stiles probably thinks about Derek naked. It was hard to miss how Stiles’ heartbeat jackrabbited when he mentioned Derek and naked in the same sentence.

“Oh you know,” Stiles shrugs, but it comes out awkward due to the large sweater hanging off his body, “I was curious if I’d be able to take one if you had running water.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t happen to have a space heater or something?”

“No, don’t need one,” Derek gestures to himself because he’s basically his own space heater, not that he’d phrase it quite like that. “You still cold?”

“A little,” Stiles’ voice is uncharacteristically quiet.

Derek pauses, not sure how to proceed.

“Just stop fidgeting okay?” Derek asks carefully, and takes cautious steps towards Stiles, palms turned out in a placating gesture.

Stiles watches Derek’s approach, with his eyebrows furrowed. “Whatcha doing?”

“Nothing,” Derek sighs, coming closer until he’s standing over Stiles’ body. “Just, _shut up_ Stiles.”

“Okay,” Stiles nods, looks up at Derek through his ridiculously long eyelashes, and this angle totally gives Derek the view to look down Stiles sweater if he were so inclined to do so.

Not that Derek is doing that or anything.

He’s definitely not eyeballing Stiles’ prominent collarbones like he wants to bite and mark them.

Nope, his train of thought is a million miles away from there.

Derek clears his throat feeling oddly nervous, and walks around so he’s standing at Stiles’ back, still looming because that’s what creatures of the night do, they _loom_ and _creep_.

Stiles is in the process of spinning around to face Derek because he doesn’t understand what Derek is doing and feels strangely threatened because he’s cold and he almost died so yeah, he’s vulnerable and a little paranoid, but when Derek places a firm grasp on his shoulder, halting his movement, Stiles just relaxes instantly.

  
Derek drops down to the ground behind Stiles and opens up his legs, grabs a hold of Stiles waist through the material and pulls him back until Stiles’ head is against his chest, and the rest of his body is in the V of Derek’s legs. Derek wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist, and just sits there, unmoving.

Five minutes of silence pass and there’s no movement except for the even up and down movement of their chests, before Stiles starts to shift uncomfortably in Derek’s grip.

“Whatcha doing?” Stiles whispers.

“Sitting here,” Derek pauses, then adds, “with you.”

“Oh.”

Derek can hear how Stiles’ heart has picked up speed, but doesn’t comment on it. He doesn’t know what that means.

The silence resumes, but it’s less tense this time and Stiles relaxes into the embrace, and some switch inside Derek just flips. He doesn’t know what allows him to start rubbing his hands up and down Stiles’s sweater-covered arms, but he’s glad for it. He feels Stiles shiver and another full body shudder erupts down Stiles’ body and Derek’s movements immediately cease. Stiles actually whines and pushes back against Derek’s chest, and says in a quiet voice, “please, just keep going.”

And yeah, Derek can’t resist that. He’s always had trouble resisting Stiles though, so maybe that’s a moot point. He continues to run his arms up and down Stiles’ own, and pauses every few seconds to rub soothing circles in a single area, tries to get the circulation going again.

“You know,” Stiles says thoughtfully, and licks over his still blue lips, “Amelia should’ve said she was on the swim team or something. It would’ve coincided with her scent and probably would’ve made you not suspicious or whatever it was that made you come down to the pier and find me tonight.”

Derek unconsciously wraps his arms around Stiles tighter and lets out an annoyed huff, because he’s really glad she wasn’t smart enough to do so. He rubs circles at Stiles’ pulse point at his wrists as he replies, “that’s what tipped me off actually. Her story about being from the Midwest while she smelled like the ocean just finally clicked in my head tonight. God, I can’t believe it actually took us to months to find her what with her lame cover.”

  
“Hey,” Stiles starts, “it’s okay, you got her tonight. Everything’s good.”  
 

Derek actually snarls, because _no, everything is not good_. “You nearly died Stiles. How in the hell you think that means everything is good is beyond me.”

“Dude,” Stiles says, and sighs, “just, I don’t know, tell me how you knew where I was.”

Well, Derek was hoping Stiles would never ask this because it leaves him in a bit of a pickle.

Derek buries in his head into the back of Stiles’ neck and mumbles his answer there, the words coming out wet and hot and Derek feels another shudder tear through Stiles. They come out as random, unidentifiable jargon which is exactly what he was hoping for.

Stiles however, is _so_ not amused.

“Derek, please,” and there’s Stiles begging again. Derek should probably learn to build up immunity against it or something.

“Fine, I was at your house and I caught the fishy smell.” Derek is adamantly refusing to use the beach scent that Stiles had described the mermaid had, because apparently someone smelling like the beach is attractive to Stiles and yeah okay fine, maybe he’s a little hurt that Stiles isn’t attracted to forest-y or woodsy-smelling people or werewolves, _living beings_ if he’s being less specific about it.

“It’s not that I’m not used to your general lurking outside of my house at odd hours of the night, but what were you there for in particular this time?”

Derek shrugs and aims for nonchalant. “I needed information on faeries.” It’s a total lie, but hey, Stiles can’t hear the spike in his heart rate, so he’s just going to call it a victory.

Derek however, should know better.

“Oh, really?” Stiles wriggles his way around in Derek’s arms and when he’s facing Derek, he quirks an eyebrow at him.

Derek nods, and Stiles nods back, seeming acquiesced, key word being _seems_.

Stiles looks down, takes in how he’s basically straddling Derek’s lap now, before asking a question.

“Hey was Isaac at the depot when he texted me asking if I could swing by and help him with the chemistry homework?”

“Yes,” Derek relents, confused.

“So,” Stiles say, and taps his index finger against his _still_ blue lips, “I’m assuming you were here when he got my reply to that particular text message?”

Derek blanches, but Stiles doesn’t pause long enough to allow Derek to defend himself.

“The text message that said how ordinarily I would absolutely love to help Isaac with his chemistry homework at midnight, God, he really is a creature of the night isn’t he? But that I couldn’t because I was meeting Amelia at the pier in half an hour.”

He pauses then, clearly waiting for Derek to respond.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not _exactly_ what the text message said,” Derek says, and he knows he’s being a little shit and deflecting, but this is so not how he was expecting this conversation to turn out.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles grits out, and tries to flail his hands up in the air and it’s a little difficult with Derek’s arms wrapped around Stiles but he lets go of Stiles, surprised. Stiles’ arms would’ve caught Derek in the face if Derek didn’t have supernaturally fast reflexes. “That was the gist of the text message.”

Derek sigh sounds resigned, and he nods. “Yeah, okay I was here at the depot, but I was still going to come over to ask about faeries before Isaac got the text.”

“Nah man, I think you were jealous and were going to try to talk me out of the ‘date’,” Stiles grins, teasing.

“So?” Derek asks indignant, no trace of teasing anywhere in his tone.

“ _What_?” Stiles squawks, because _what_?

Derek grits his teeth, tries really hard not to deny what he’s just said, because he’s been denying himself this for so long, so it shouldn’t be a hardship to deny himself this again, but he doesn’t know if it’s possible anymore.

Actions have always been easy for Derek; he’s used to using his body and his looks to get him things, information most of the time. Pressing his body against Stiles to warm Stiles up was always going to be easier than using his words to confess his feelings, not that he’d ever planned on doing so, but it’s too late to retract anything, and he’s not sure he even wants to honestly. There was never a doubt that this would be freaking difficult, and Derek inhales deeply, and catches the scent of content radiating in waves of off Stiles and that, that right there gives him the capability to tell Stiles how he feels because there’s no way Stiles would ever feel happy after almost dying in the frigid water, at the hand of a mermaid. Derek wasn’t even sure they existed until two months ago when they found a local lifeguard lying face down in a pool strewn with bite marks that resembled a piranha. So really, the only thing that could be making Stiles happy at the moment is Derek’s confession, that he was jealous that Stiles had a date, that it meant that Derek had some very non-killing and probably most importantly to Stiles, non- platonic feelings towards him.

“I was jealous,” Derek coughs out and then turns his face away, gnashes his teeth together in embarrassment.

Stiles actually whoops loudly and it startles Derek enough to look back toward Stiles who’s grinning down at him happily.

Derek’s breath may actually hitch a little bit at the sight of Stiles’ million-watt smile, but he’ll deny it later if Stiles brings it up later once he comes down from this post-confession high.

“Dude,” Stiles breathes out, and scoots forward until he’s properly straddling Derek’s thighs. He brings his forehead to rest against Derek’s. Derek brings his hands back up to hold Stiles against him.

Derek’s breath is coming out hot and fast against Stiles’ cheek, and can see where Stiles’ normal coloring is starting to come back in his cheeks. Stiles’ lips are still blue however.

“Hi,” Derek whispers, not sure how loud to be and how to move forward from this.

Stiles’ eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles again, “hi.”

Derek moves his hands where they’re resting idly on Stiles’ waist and starts rubbing them slowly up and down Stiles back, “Still cold?”

“Kinda,” Stiles murmurs, but really it’s a purr, Derek is _totally_ going to call that a purr.

“You know,” Derek says conversationally and then pauses, places his left hand firmly in the center of Stiles’ lower back and moves his right one up to cup gently at Stiles jaw, “your lips are still blue.”

“Oh?” Stiles responds, trying to play coy.

And honestly, Derek wants to laugh, which is something he hasn’t done in a long time. Situations like these apparently make Stiles speechless and demure; he’ll have to remember that for the future. And God, there’s going to be a _future_ , these little moments could become a regular occurrence.

“Yeah,” Derek nods and moves his hand so it’s hovering over Stiles’ lips and then presses his index finger at Stiles’ lower lip, and tugs at it.

Stiles whimpers, and rocks his hips down against Derek.

“No,” Derek growls, puts his hand back at Stiles’ waist so no more gyrating of hips will occur, it can’t happen just yet.

He does however, lean up and press his lips gently against Stiles’ own, pillowing Stiles’ upper one in between both of his. He refuses to open up his mouth when Stiles’ tongue darts out to lick at his bottom lip; he wants this, whatever this is between them now, to remain chaste, just for now though. Stiles groans low in his throat and Derek resists the urge to give in to Stiles. He presses a few more pecks against Stiles’ lips and he lingers at Stiles’ lips at the last peck, nipping Stiles’ lower lip playfully before pulling away to look at Stiles’ reaction.

And yeah, Stiles definitely doesn’t disappoint. His normal coloring is completely back in his face, and his lips are now swollen and cherry-red, and okay Derek is a little smug as he sees Stiles’ blown pupils. Just a little anyways, but really maybe it’s a lot smug.

“You, I - " Stiles gasps, touches his fingers to his lips in awe, “wow that was _awesome_.”

Derek rolls his eyes, breathes out a happy, “yeah” before he grips at Stiles’ waist and pulls Stiles off his lap so he can turn Stiles back around to rest against his chest again.  
When Stiles’ back is flush against his chest and comfortable, Derek grabs at the palms of Stiles’ hands and shoves his hands into the sleeves of Stiles’ sweater, intertwining their fingers together underneath the material.

Derek hears Stiles laugh and a second later feels the vibrations of Stiles’ chuckle in the pit of his stomach and it’s quite a sensation.

“Aw, I always knew you were a big softie deep down, Sour Wolf.”

“ _Shut up_ , Stiles.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this wasn't too horrible.  
> I love the song so I kinda had to write something.
> 
> Also, let's pretend that Beacon Hills has a pier or something nearby.


End file.
